500 words
by Jim Handy
Summary: Written for the hp500 lj group.
1. Genesis

All recognizable characters belong to JK Rowling. No money is being or could be made.

--

He tells himself not to be afraid.

As he gazes at the steaming body of his former mentor, he reminds himself of all the promises he's made. That he would never be under anyone's thumb but his own. That he would never submit his ambitions to the rule of lesser men's petty morals. And that, unlike his mother, he would never allow himself to give in to the weakness of death.

He reviews everything in his mind. He renews the wards around the deserted wood, just in case Aurors looking for the escaped Dark Wizard happen to search this area. He runs through the complicated wording of the ritual, and examines the nine objects spread in a circle around Grindelwald's body, his nine most precious possessions. He hisses sweet nothings to the snake on his shoulder, the one he saw that day in the Munich zoo and knew right then was the destined vessel of his soul. It had taken days of planning to take it, and his mentor had been furious, but he had stood up to the old man. It had been too exquisite a serpent to leave in the hands of Muggles.

At last, he is ready. With the stink of Grindelwald's murder still hanging the air, Tom Marvelo Riddle raises his head and begins to chant, the air roiling around him as his soul begins to split apart at its seams and funnel a tiny sliver of itself into the thrashing snake.

The pain is exquisite. He cannot imagine a better beginning for the future ruler of all that is.


	2. Unanswered Questions

_Listen, I tell you a mystery! We will not all die, but we will all be changed._

It's a passage he looks at whenever he wants to relive those days of hope and wonder. When the Common Room is dark and empty, or when the students are all sitting in their own private huddles, he sits by the fire and pages throught the tattered leather Bilble he somehow managed to bring with him when he died. He wishes that it could bring him some peace. All it ever seems to do is bring questions that are impossible to answer.

He can remember, in the foggy manner of ghosts, the day his abbot called on him to travel to London-town and council the the man who had donated so much money to their monestary so many years ago.

Could he have refused?

No. His devotion to the monestary was strong and firm, and he packed with a light heart, already dreaming of what sights would await him in London. Almost before he knew it, he was there, being welcomed into that man's family. He had been there another seven days before Lord Grey had admitted what had caused him to send for a monk.

He believed his niece to be possesed by devils.

Could he have denied what he knew, and forsaken the girl?

No. After attending Hogwarts, he could hardly have missed the signs of an emerging witch. He had taken one look at the girl, huddled under the weight of her guilt and fear, and had known that he had to get her to a place of saftey. So he told Lord Grey that he would take her to a place of healing, were her trouble could be dealt quietly. If anyone asked, his Lordship could tell them that Lady Anna had gone away to study with relatives.

Were they doomed the moment they set out?

He hopes not. Once Anna had gotten over her shock, she had gradually warmed to the idea of a school for her and those like her. Hogwarts had not dissapointed. Ravenclaw had welcomed her with open arms, and whenever he visited her he found a young woman devoted to her studies and filled with talent. He smiled to hear of her accomplishments, and his hopes for her future were unbound.

When he learned that she was suffering from a disease the healer at Hogwarts could not combat, he rushed back and would not leave her. One night she closed her eyes and never opened them again. The same disease claimed him a month later, and as he lay dieing, his only thought was to make up for his failure to look after her as her father had commanded.

The next thing he knew, she was gazing at him sadly, and they both had no more form or solidity than a morning mist.

Did he make the right choice?

That is one question nothing, not even the Scriptures, can seem to answer for him.

I Corinthians 15


	3. In the beginning

First line belongs to penknife.

I_n the beginning, Harry Potter was born._

James thinks that if someone ever has the unlikely urge to write down the story of his life, they should begin there.

As he holds his new son and gazes at his sleeping wife, he compares the life he has led to the life he will lead after this. Sirius had joked with him during his bachelor party about loosing Prongs to matrimony, about how everything was different now, about the end of their moonlight revels. James thought at the time that Sirius was, as usual, more right than even he knew. He can see the changes in all his friends, in Remus' increasingly lined face, in Sirius' bitter moods and longings he hides so well, in Peter's nervous twitching and refusal to sit still. He's not sure how to approach any of them anymore, is still unsure of how to talk to his old school mates now that school has come and gone and their actions have real consequences now. The real world has marked all of them, and James cannot say if it is for better or worse.

All of thses, however, seem insignifigant with the new life stirring in his hands and the young woman indulging in some well earned rest. He's been worried about his loved ones for a long time, but now, James Potter can see a better life ahead for himself. For all of them.


	4. Beat

Peter bounded down the steps to the library, a spring in his step and a song in his heart. He had it! After all those long months of practicing, all those long, desperate sessions alone and with the others, and after several terrifying near misses, he finally had the transformation down, before any of them. Knowing James and Sirius and Remus, they would be down in the library now, Sirius looking up random but fascinating factoids and the other two trying to keep up with his manic musings and planning. Wanting to tell them himself, as soon as he could, he turned and shot into the library, slowing down under Pinces's gaze and walking over to their usual spot over the Transfiguration shelves.

They weren't there.

Confused, Peter searched the rest of the library, ever peering as far as he could into the Restricted Section. Scratching his head, he wandered out and began considering where his friends could be. The dorms? No, James rarely spent any time at all indoors during the spring if he could help it. The dungeons, perhaps? As appealing a thoguht as a nearly deserted Slytherin dorm might be, it had been only a week since their last invasion. Sirius liked to make his pranks random, confusing both friends and enemies.

At last, he decided to just go down to the lake, sit down against a tree or rock, and watch to see if any of his friends passed by. His mother had found an old Muggle book in the back of their shop, and sent it to him as a birthday present. Maybe now, he could find out if Rudyard Kipling was as good as Remus had said.

Clutching his copy of Captain Courageous, Peter walked out into the late afternoon sunlight. The few billowy clouds traced dark shadows on the ground, while students wandered by or sat talking on the fresh green lawn in ones and twos and threes. He had just selected a suitable reading sight when something caught his eye. There were two black haired heads and one brown head walking down towards the Forbidden Forest, heads together and muttering voices coming faintly over the wind. Grinning, Peter jogged towads them, only to stop and hide behind a tree when Remus turned to Sirius expectantly and said "So, you two finally think you're ready?"

"Well," came the smirking reply, "I don't know about the herbevore over here,but you don't need to worry about one Marauder during the full moon." And with that, he raised his wand, furrowed his brow, and between on moment and the next became a large black dog. As Remus and Peter were gazing, dumbstruck, James grinned and said "And hopefuly, I can keep both you loonies in check," before taking the form of a tall, graceful stag.

Peter's face sagged. Turning towards the castle, he trudged back up the hill, careful to keep out of his friend's sight. He decided his news could wait a little longer.


	5. Unlikely Friends

Alastor looked about, trying to read the faces around him. His father had told him there was a trick to this, to reading what the people around you felt just by looking into their eyes and seeing the expressions on their faces. Alastor had never thought to question his father, who spent his whole life dealing with stubborn diplomats and their sneaky plans, but now he was wondering if he could ever make sense of the bewildering expressions all around him. Fear and hope and wonder and things he couldn't even begin to understand were all around him. He had to think _There has got to be a better way to do this._

Only one other student in the hall seemed to be as alert as he was, gazing all around with blue eyes that twinkled in the dim candlelight. He was a short boy with short auburn hair . Not much to look at, really. He was gazing around, however, with an expression of pure delight, as though Christmas had come early. Alastor thought that, if nothing else, the boy would at least share some of his enthusiasm. Walking over, he sidled up and said "Ah, hello there, my name is Alastor. Alastor Moody. I don't suppose I know you, mister...?

The blue eyes looked oddly at him for a moment, the boy still smiled and said "Pleased to meet you, Alastor Moody! My name's Albus Dumbledore, and this is the most amazing place I've ever seen in my life! Those carriages were amazing, and did you see that gigantic squid in the lake? It was just me and my bother and mum growing up, so this is the most people together in one place I've ever seen! What about you?"

Alastor took a small step backwards, somewhat bemused by the barrage of words. "Ah..I'm from London. My father works at the Ministry, and I've been to Hogwarts a few times before with my uncle, professor Moody." He tried, and failed, to keep a note of pride from entering his voice. "He teaches Defense against the Dark Arts, did you know that? Everyone says he's the best professor of that subject to come along in fifty years."

Albus looked impressed. "Wow. That must be smashing, to have an uncle as a professor. Mum doesn't talk to any of her relatives anymore, she says they all stopped coming around after she married a muggle. Sad, isn't it? Why don't people just live and let live? It would make the world a better place."

This revelation made Alastor pause for a moment and consider. He knew his father would be unhappy if he knew that his son was associating with a mudblood, but on the other hand, the boy was friendly, and might be persuaded to help with some of Alastor's extracurricular activities. He'd be a good accomplice, and keeping a friendship secret would be fairly easy.

Decided, he nodded and said "Yes, Albus, that would be a fine thing indeed."


End file.
